<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Cult of Gold by Gwenore</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292738">The Cult of Gold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenore/pseuds/Gwenore'>Gwenore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Once Upon a Time (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Body Horror, F/M, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Romance, Monster Transformation, Transformation, horror romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:13:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27292738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenore/pseuds/Gwenore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The people of Storybrooke still talks about Miss Belle French.<br/>How she came to their small town, though no one knew from where. <br/>About how she hired only one servant. <br/>Old Rum Spinner who had nothing since his son left for Boston. <br/>But what they spoke of most...<br/>... was how they both vanished without a trace.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Cult of Gold</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So four years ago Dekujin made a prompt which created “Beneath the Skin” which I published on the 30th of October. So I asked her to give me another prompt to publish today. I admit I changed... most of it. But the core idea was Rumple being cursed and Belle trying to save him. <br/>And... it will include body horror and monster transformation. <br/>I just changed it from a fantasy setting to a Victorian one and added a good dose of Lovecraft. <br/>Will get pretty gruesome. Hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late evening as Rum Spinner was bringing into the estate of Miss French. She was certainly an… interesting young lady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the talk of the town was around her, not that he was much involved much in the talk of town, but he did still have ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though in this case he could not really blame them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even to him the young lady was a mystery…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had come to the small town of Storybrooke for what seemed out of the blue, no one knew of her, or where she came from… and she wasn’t telling either. At least not in the level of detail that people wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She said she was a scholar… and with the amount of books in her home Rum did not doubt that for a moment. He swore if he threw a stone in the place it would land on a book nine times out of time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she had first arrived she had stayed at the local inn for a while, before buying the old mansion at the end of the town, which had been rumored to be haunted, but that only seemed to excited her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss French certainly was an eccentric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what was perhaps more curious was her decision to hire him to be her manservant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rum was well aware how little he was thought off in the town, especially after he was laid off, able to sustain himself on doing work around the place that no one else wanted to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough to make it so that he could eat… but not enough to keep doing repairs on the small cottage that he called a home was basically falling apart. It had been easier when his son lived there, but he had to go search his fortune in the city of Boston, and Rum had always been the one to insist he should go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Better than being stuck in this place his entire life like his father. He needed his freedom… a chance to make something of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could not do that in Storybrooke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still… life had been hard after he left… all he could really think of was surviving. There wasn’t time for much else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had seen Belle at the inn when he was set to rake the fallen leaves as they were in the middle of fall. Despite the cold air, the work had made him warm and he had rolled up his sleeves to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then she came up to him and asked if he wished to work for her when she moved into the home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fair enough the place was rumored to be haunted, but he had never expected it to be too hard for her to find servants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still… he was hardly in a position to turn her offer down… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was… a bloody miracle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if it were not to last, it was still a miracle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had then casually asked about the mark on his arm, if it was a tattoo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to confess to her that he didn’t know and gave the shameful admittance that after a night he had drank too much… he simply woke up with it. Of course he assured her drinking like that was not common for him, though she didn’t care about that bit, simply asking if he didn’t remember anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a mark on his lower arm… a tattoo perhaps, though he had never seen one like it before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in the shape of a dagger, but had no black ink… it was completely golden. It hadn’t washed away either… despite his attempts. He had rubbed his skin red, but the golden mark remained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never heard of gold ink in a tattoo before… especially not like this… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only thing he was happy about was that it was easily hidden and due to the pale color and his pale skin, you could barely see it in the sunlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had been fascinated by it, even brushing her soft fingers across the mark, even now he remembered the gentle touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was beautiful, there was no man who could deny that… but… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rum swallowed. He was lucky to simply be in her presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been so many times where he had been absolutely struck with her beauty, simply standing to look at her, as she was either reading or writing… most of the time both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only sound in her study being the crackling fire and the scratching of her dip pen against the parchment for hours on end… it was in those moments he would sometimes have to stop and watch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How there was a curious frown on her brow, due to the concentration on her work… and how those blue eyes sparkled with intelligence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She truly was so… wonderful… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would sometimes have to tear himself away from that image as it was so beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It also… gave him comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A comfort that beautiful things still existed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An image he so desperately tried to hold onto as he sat in his small room by the kitchen late at night, knowing that he had to sleep… but dreaded the thought…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not dread…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rum Spinner was terrified of going to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was in the depth of sleep that… they… came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those dreadful dead… orbs of gold planted in dreadful frightening faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the only thing which he remembered when he woke up in the day. He couldn’t describe those utterly inhuman faces…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… the orbs of gold… those haunted him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So dead… so lifeless… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet… they saw him… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They saw through him… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they would grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up in her room Miss Belle French was coming through her hair, pondering about the things which she had read and the reason which she had gotten to this small town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those ancient tombs…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With blackened pages… written in gold, speaking of such horrifying things which hid in the dark beyond human comprehension. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the signs… it had led her here… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she had been too late. Far too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now… all she could do… was deal with the consequences…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were here in the shadows… waiting for the one to bring them into the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man with the golden dagger. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>